


disrepair

by SolidStateScouter



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gen, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolidStateScouter/pseuds/SolidStateScouter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice comes to a realization. Patchouli's body degrades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sugiraku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugiraku/gifts).



Alice pulls the comb through her knotted hair, wincing in discomfort, dolls moving around about her. They clean up her dress - brushing off any patches of dust and straightening the fabric in places. Other dolls help with her hair, making sure it falls in just the right way and is just as perfectly straight as she needs it to be. She brushes a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and looks into the mirror. A few dolls flit around, making last-second changes, and, once they're done, Alice tries to smile. In her reflection, the smile looks awkward and uncomfortably forced, and she sighs.

When she's in front of the mirror like this, she can't stop nitpicking every little, insignificant aspect of her dress and her hair, so Alice walks out of the room, dolls following closely behind her. Her other dolls have already prepared everything she needed for the day, packed away neatly in a small basket. After going over everything once more herself, Alice exits her small cottage with the basket in hand, surrounded by her normal entourage of dolls. Then, she floats to the sky above the Forest of Magic slowly - any faster and she'd ruin her carefully maintained hair. Of course, once she gets high enough, the wind blows over her hair and makes a mess out of it anyways.

The doll maker restrains the urge to go back to her cottage to fix her hair. She'd just be procrastinating, anyways. As much as she'd like to hide in her house all day fussing over every small detail, she also wants to be able to actually interact with Patchouli. Even if the prospect makes her almost nauseatingly anxious and even more self-conscious than normal. She'd calm down eventually, anyways.

At least, she hopes she would. It'd be pretty unfortunate if she spent the entire time stumbling over her words and freaking out about Patchouli's inscrutable expressions. Not like that hasn't happened before, but she still didn't want it to happen again.

First, though, she had to run some errands. Hopefully those would help in taking her mind off of the upcoming events. And the first of those errands was at the Human Village. It's a pretty quick flight, from where she lives in the forest, but she tries to take it slowly. Even if her hair was already ruined, she'd rather keep it as salvageable as possible. She touches down a little bit outside of the village's bounds, kicking up an unpleasant cloud of dirt and dust. Her dolls brush of her dress almost immediately, and Alice makes her way into the village.

The humans look at her strangely. Some rush their children inside and shoot glares at her. Still, no one causes any trouble. Alice doesn't like visiting the village much, though - it's necessary, sometimes, to get certain fabrics and materials for her dolls, but ever since she became a magician, she was never really welcomed in any human settlements. At best, she'd be left alone and avoided, and even if she enjoyed the silence, she'd rather be surrounded by silence because she wanted to be. Not because everyone nearby hated her and her dolls. She'd been kicked out of other villages, before, for making them.

At least things weren't like that in Gensokyo.

Alice makes her purchases from the small shop she always bought her materials from, politely thanking the vendor there, and exiting the building. Her dolls quickly package up the new materials, taking the basket from her to store them away safely. She makes a few other, small stops around the village - fetching ingredients for tea and coffee, and such. It doesn't take all that long for her to finish up with everything, and, soon enough, she's exiting the village the way she came in. Again, Alice waits until she's outside the bounds of the village before she takes off. The humans usually got uncomfortable seeing anyone flying directly to or from the village.

The Scarlet Devil Mansion isn't all that far from the village, but Alice takes it as slowly as she normally does, partly to clear her mind and calm herself down, and partly just to look over the landscape. Still, she can't procrastinate forever, and she's soon walking down the path leading to the mansion's front entrance. Meiling looks up from her gardening to wave to her, dress covered in dirt and grass stains. Alice waves back awkwardly, attempting to fake a smile, again. She can't tell if she actually pulled it off or not, which is probably for the best.

The doors of the main entrance are unlocked, as always, so Alice pushes them open and walks into the main hall. It was uncomfortably dimly lit, and after the bright, sunny light outside, it takes Alice a few moments to adjust. Even in the dark, though, Alice knows the way to the library, so she starts walking there. On the way there, she makes sure her hair is as it was before the wind ruined it - her dolls fidget around rapidly, brushing it back into place to make it as perfect as possible. They brush off her dress, too, removing yet another layer of dust and dirt.

Once she gets to the door that leads down to the library, Alice clears her throat and fidgets with her hair one last time, before pushing it open. The library is far more expansive than the mansion should have room to contain, shelves stacked to a ceiling that couldn't possibly exist in relation to the mansion's dimensions. Thinking about in depth just gave Alice a headache. It was more trouble than it was worth, really, and Sakuya never gave a straight answer. More importantly, though, the library - it was truly a thing to behold. Patchouli had boasted before that it was the largest library in Gensokyo, which Alice didn't really have much reason to doubt.

Almost immediately, Koakuma is at the door beside her, smiling. "Ah, Miss Margatroid! Its nice to see you!" the devil says, brightly.

Alice nods politely, smiling slightly. "Likewise." The two of them exchange brief pleasantries, before Koakuma shows Alice on her way to where Patchouli was poring over a pile of books.

She doesn't look towards either of them until Koakuma makes a small coughing noise and says, "Lady Patchouli! Miss Margatroid is here." Patchouli slowly turns from her book to look at the both of them.

"Oh. Hello, Alice," she mutters, before turning back to her desk. "Take a seat. Koakuma, could you - "

"Make some tea? On it!" Koakuma flies off into the distance of the library, and Alice awkwardly takes the seat opposite Patchouli, drumming her fingers against the desk.

"So," Patchouli starts, still flipping through the book in front of her. "What did you come all this way to show me?"

She never bothered with pleasantries. Alice gestures to her dolls and says, "Well!" They set the basket down on the desk, and Alice opens it up, pulling out a small-ish, incomplete doll. "I've been trying to work on developing another type of my dolls, separate from the Hourai and Shanghai models. This one would be called Edo." She sets the doll on the table gently, and Patchouli looks up from her book. She pauses at the sight of the doll, before reaching out to take it into her own hands. She handles it the same way Alice has seen her handle her older books, carefully and gently running her hands over the joints.

"I do not know what you expect me to tell you. She seems to be well-constructed," Patchouli says, eventually, not looking away from the doll. "I'm afraid I cannot quite tell the difference between this and your other dolls based on the construction alone. Doll making is not my forte, Alice."

Alice shifts in her seat. "Oh, I know. The difference between this doll and the others is mostly internal. This one is a combat-oriented doll, loaded with gunpowder and some other explosive reagents. The plan is to detonate it once I get it into an advantageous position in a spell card battle. The thing is, I've been having trouble getting it to properly detonate when I want it to. The previous models either detonate too late, or not at all. I made this one last night and brought it over now, so..." her voice trails off, and Patchouli doesn't respond, not at first.

"Alright," Patchouli mutters, setting the doll down. "You could have told me that earlier. You'd need a simple magical circle engraved somewhere, probably on the back, for easier transmission." She gently taps her finger against the center of the doll's back. "A doll like this would also benefit from sturdier and more secure construction, to prevent unexpected detonation, as well as to prevent another mage from deliberately setting off the detonation signal once they figure it out."

"Oh, I know," Alice nods. "I'll reinforce it later. I just want it to be detonating properly, first. Thank you, Patchouli." Her dolls scoop up the incomplete doll and set it back down into her basket, which they pull off the table and onto the ground.

Patchouli nods, already going back to her book, "Mhm." A few moments pass in silence, and Koakuma arrives to set down two steaming cups of tea. Alice sips from hers and kicks her feet, while Patchouli continues reading. And then, "Have you made any progress in creating a fully-functioning homunculus, yet?" Patchouli speaks suddenly, without looking up from her book, sudden enough that Alice nearly drops her cup.

"Oh! Unfortunately, no. It's... tricky, getting one that actually functions. I've been working on researching things mostly, as of late. Alchemy essays, and such. Not all of them are very helpful, but it's still informative."

"Who have you been reading? Rosenkreuz? Paracelsus? Jābir? Pseudo-Geber?" Patchouli lists off many more names, glancing up from her book.

Alice sips from her cup again. "Oh, mostly Paracelsus and Pseudo-Geber. I've tried to read as much as I can, though. Do you have any books on alchemy I could borrow, maybe? I promise to return them in good condition."

"... I suppose. If... Once you succeed in making a homunculus, what are you planning to do with it?"

"Oh, uh..." Alice shifts nervously, unsure of how to answer her. She had extensively prepared for such a possibility already. She could never know when she'd run into some breakthrough, so... she had simply written a list of plans and possibilities and expectations. But, she worries that Patchouli would find that kind of weird, to be so prepared for something that was unlikely to happen any time soon. Then again, it was best to be honest, right? Alice wrestles with her thoughts for a moment, before, "Uh, I'm prepared for that possibility. I have plans."

"Okay." Patchouli doesn't say much else after that, and Koakuma flies by not too long later with a small stack of books in her arms, which she hands to Alice. "Those are some of my books on alchemy and homunculus theory. Take care of them, and try to return them within the week, please."

Alice finds herself actually smiling, and quickly works to make it less apparent, raising her hand as if she was going to brush hair from her face. "Of course! Thank you, Patchouli."

Patchouli waves her off. "It's nothing."

"Still. Thank you." Alice stands up, putting her newly acquired books into her basket. Her dolls quickly clean up everything that remains. "I'll see you around soon, Patchouli...?"

"Presumably. Take care, Alice."

For a moment Alice hesitates, nearly taking a step towards Patchouli, before stopping. "Uh, yeah. You too." She exits the mansion quickly, chewing on the inside of her cheek, and takes to the sky as she pulls out one of the books that Patchouli had lent her.

May as well start reading it now.

* * *

_Marisa is here. She’s outside._

Alice jerks her head up when one of the dolls sitting in the trees outside transmits that piece of information to her. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she slams the books that she had fallen asleep on shut and pushes them to the side, where dolls pull them off to hide them.

She really didn’t trust Marisa to not try to steal them as soon as she sees them. Finding out they were Patchouli’s would only make her want to steal them more, in all likelihood. The dolls slide them under her bed and Alice wipes her mouth, grumbling.

Of course Marisa shows up just in time to wake her up from an impromptu nap. Fantastic. She fusses with her hair quickly, trying to get it back to how it was before she fell asleep - her dolls help. She rubs her cheek and scowls, before putting on a more pleasant expression and opening the door.

“Oi, Alice! You’re up!” The sudden obnoxious sound of Marisa talking jars Alice even when she’s prepared for it, and the witch pushes past her into her cottage. “So - I was out with Nitori earlier, and I saw you takin’ a trip out to the mansion! Of course, Patche just ignored me when I tried to ask her about it, but I was thinkin’ maybe you’d let me in on the juicy details~?”

Alice stares at her. “Juicy details.”

“Yeah, I - “

“We drank tea, talked, and then I left.” Alice cuts her off, turning away to sit down at the small table. Her dolls whir around, already working to prepare tea for her. Marisa ignores them, and takes her own seat, crossing her legs and propping them up on the table. Alice pushes them off, and Marisa just leans back in her chair, crossing her arms behind her head.

Marisa rolls her eyes, brushing dust and twigs from her hat. “Sounds like a great date, Alice.”

“It wasn’t a date!” Alice snaps, a small blush spreading across her cheeks. “We were just talking.”

“Sounds boring. Was it at least an interestin’ conversation, then?” Marisa takes a cup of tea from a doll as it flies past, paying no mind to the heat. “I mean, really, flying that far just to talk? You must have gotten SOMETHING worthwhile out of that - ”

“For your information, Marisa, talking to Patchouli is worth the flight,” Alice mutters, crossing her arms as another doll sets down her cup of tea in front of her. She realizes how that sounds a moment later, and flushes. “BESIDES, that’s not all it was, she was giving me some advice - “

“Oh, score. She never gives me advice.” _I wonder why._ “What kinda advice? More doll makin’ stuff?” Marisa takes a sip from her cup. Alice internally marvels at her heat resistance. It’d be great to make a doll that tough… maybe it was something about the Mini-Hakkero.

“Yeah. She just helped me with some magical design specifications.”

Marisa nods. “That makes sense, she’s probably good with that kinda stuff.”

“Yes.” Alice blinks. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Well, you know, the homunculus thing.” Marisa speaks casually, watching the dolls fly around.

“What are you talking about?”

“Eh?” Marisa shifts her gaze over to her, raising an eyebrow. “You know - oh, you don’t actually know.” She snorts, setting her cup down. “I thought it was obvious. She’s a homunculus. Wait, how did _you_ not know that? Isn’t that your specialty? Aren’t you supposed to be really good at seeing through illusions ‘n stuff? How did you not know?” Marisa keeps on going on, but Alice just stares at her blankly, not really processing anything she was saying.

A homunculus.

It takes a while to process. At first, the only thing really processing is incredulity. How the hell didn’t she pick up on that? Like Marisa said, that was her specialty. This was her _life_. And she _was_ good at seeing through magical illusions and things, too. How did she not notice?

The first thought after that is “ _I wonder what she’s made of”_.

Was it porcelain? That would explain her perfect skin, but it was always so soft - she cuts her thoughts off there and looks down at cup of tea in front of her. She needs to stop, right there. Patchouli isn’t some experiment, some doll she can pick apart and analyze.

She lives and she breathes, and…

Alice looks around her cottage, at all the dolls flitting around with lifeless glass eyes. Marisa’s still talking, but her voice seems distant. Alice realizes she’s hyperventilating. She can’t think about this, right now, but it’s all that’s processing, that, and the empty stares that her dolls give her when she looks at them for too long. She can’t breathe.

She faintly registers the sound of Marisa going silent, and then the sound of her chair scraping against the floor as she pushes it back. “Uh, Alice, do you…” she trails off, and Alice shoos her away with one hand, trying to regulate her breathing.

“I’m fine,” she manages, eventually, staring at the table.  “Just… come back later. I need some time to… process things.” Her vision is blurry, and she can barely make out Marisa, looking down at her with what is probably a concerned expression.

Marisa doesn’t say anything for a while, until she sighs. “Alright, Alice. See you around.” She leaves, and Alice turns her head back to the table. Once her dolls make sure she’s gone, Alice lets her head fall to the table with a thunk, vision swimming over with panicked tears.

* * *

Blood swims down the drain of the sink and Patchouli raises her head, wiping at her mouth with her sleeve - already caked with dried blood from an earlier coughing fit. Even as little as breathing hurts, right now - it makes her throat feel raw and makes her lungs burn even more.

Koakuma pats her back gently, a cup of tea in her other hand. As soon as Patchouli’s arms are steady enough, she offers it to her, and she takes it slowly, taking a shaky sip. Eventually, once she can manage talking again without making her throat feel like it’s on fire, she whispers, “Take me to my room, Koa.”

The familiar complies, gently guiding her through the maze that was her library, all the way to her room. It was tucked away in some inconspicuous corner, behind rows and rows of bookshelves. Koakuma pushes open the door and Patchouli stumbles inside, still sipping from her cup.

She was feeling a bit better now, but… she didn’t want to do much more than lie around and feel herself waste away, right now. And her room was the perfect place for that. Without Koakuma’s careful touch, it was a disaster. Books and scrolls and half-finished notes were strewn across desks and over the floor, in stacks. The room smells like paper, tea and sleep.

Patchouli’s body was failing. A sloppily made artificial body like hers wasn’t intended to last more than a few years, let alone a _hundred_. She had made it last for much longer than it should have - it took every bit of magic she could manage to keep her body from rotting away as she walked. It only became harder over time, though, and would only become harder with the coming years.

It was a constant challenge.

It didn’t help that all the chemicals and reagents involved in alchemy were wreaking havoc on her body. Not like she didn’t take precautions for those - magical, physical, everything possible. Mistakes were - regrettably - inevitable, it seems, and some things couldn’t be completely prevented.

Patchouli takes a breath and she feels like there are needles in her veins. She had been hoping to spend some time looking over whatever research notes were scattered around her room, but… her body feels like hell, straining and struggling with every action, even one as simple as walking from the door to her bed unsupported.

She manages it - _she hates that that feels like an accomplishment, she wants to feel clear and alive again_ \- and collapses on her bed. Most of the tea spills from her cup onto the floor. _Whatever_. It’ll only intensify the tea smell, really, and the smell helps Patchouli calm down after incidents like these, even if it’s just a bit.

Patchouli drinks the rest of her tea - it’s too hot, and it scalds her tongue and her throat, but at this point she doesn’t care. She sets the mug on her night table, and pulls her sheets up and over her body. She doesn’t expect to fall asleep anytime soon - her heart rate has barely slowed - but she doesn’t really want to move at all, either.

Time fades away, minutes and hours blurring away as Patchouli’s heart returns to beating at a normal pace. Her throat stops burning, and her lungs return to their regular, still unpleasant state. She still can’t fall asleep - she shifts and stares at the ceiling and sighs.

Her thoughts drift to Alice and she tries to force them elsewhere. It doesn't work. Why did she give her those books? She should have found some way to _tell_ her about… this, instead. She takes a breath and feels her lungs strain. _Inconvenient_. It’s hard to talk about this generally, let alone to Alice.

Maybe her body would die before the topic came up again. What would anyone tell Alice in that case? It’d be better to tell her herself, really. She isn't looking forward to that conversation.

An indeterminate amount of time passes before there’s a light knocking against the door. “Come in,” Patchouli rasps, lifting up her head and squinting in an attempt to make out the shape in the dark. It was hard even in normal conditions to make out anything further than a few feet without casting some minor spell on her eyes. But she doesn’t have the energy for that.

Not like she needs it, here - Meiling’s silhouette is distinctive enough that she’s easy to recognize. “Hey, Patche,” she says, quietly, waving. “I got some more medication from Eientei while I was out.” She lifts a bag, and sets it on an open space on one of her desks. “So, yeah. It’s here when you need it.”

“Thank you, Meiling,” Patchouli nods to her, before lying back down. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing, Patche. Get some rest.” She’s out as soon as she was in.

That sounds like a good idea, but Patchouli doubts sleep will come easy. It rarely does.


	2. Chapter 2

Light filters in through the blinds of Alice’s cottage, and the dollmaker stirs and opens her eyes slowly, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom. Her room is bathed in the light of the rising sun. It glints off of discarded doll casings cluttering a shelf. Alice rolls over and pushes her face into her pillow, trying to blot out the light of the morning.

It doesn’t work. Her room heats up in the sunlight and soon even lying in bed is more uncomfortable than she’s willing to suffer through. Alice pushes herself up from her bed and stumbles through her house. She doesn’t bother trying to comb her hair - she wasn’t going to go out today anyways, so what was the point? She ends up in her sitting room, a cup of lukewarm tea on the table in front of her.

The books she had borrowed Patchouli are stacked on the table, placed there days earlier. It had already been over a week. Alice is surprised that Patchouli hadn’t sent Koakuma over to pick them up by now, but, in all likelihood, she had either forgotten or hadn’t particularly cared in the first place. She probably gave Alice replaceable books. _Probably couldn’t trust me with any more_ \- Alice screws her eyes shut and rubs at her temples.

She shouldn’t be thinking about that this early. Patchouli has her reasons, for not talking about these things, and Alice can understand not talking to _her_ about them. The dollmaker who lived alone in her cottage in the middle of the woods, in a house filled with empty dolls and piles of incomplete bodies. It was probably just uncomfortable to her. Patchouli had only come over once before, and never again. If she wanted to talk to Alice, she sent Meiling or Koakuma.

Still, despite all the reasoning that seems so logical and understandable, Alice can’t help but wander to more upsetting possibilities. _She hates me_ is one of the few things that really processes when Alice’s thoughts go back to her, day after day. She wishes she could go over to talk to her - she had tried - but every time she thinks about it anxiety brews in her stomach until she’s hunched over in her bathroom, trembling.

It was much easier to sit around her cottage and do nothing.

So, that was what she had been doing for the past couple days, interspersed with hours spent tinkering with her dolls and rethinking every plan she had for them. Had Patchouli once been something like one of her dolls? Something that had appeared to be so simple and small and thoughtless, but had grown into something else entirely.

The thought is scary. There’s no telling whether or not any of Alice’s dolls were ever _truly_ conscious, and so many of them had just… been destroyed, over the years - _decades_ \- whether through danmaku or through her own experiments. She remembers picking up singed shards of porcelain and charred glass eyes weeks ago, after a test went wrong.

She’ll never know if that had just been another doll, or if it could have been the start of something. The start of new research, or a new life, or… _something_. Patchouli certainly seemed to be more flesh than porcelain; she was probably an organic homunculus, then, grown through magic. It occurs to her that that may be why her body’s so weak. An incomplete or poorly made body… a first attempt at life, gone wrong. What if something like that happened with one of her creations? Some subtle flaw that grew into a constant, grinding issue...

Alice stares into her tea. She hasn’t even taken a sip since she made it. It went from steaming to warm to lukewarm to stale and she watched it slowly move through every state. She picks it up and goes to pour it down the drain, when she’s caught off guard by a sharp, echoing knock against her door.

She’s so used to having her dolls inform her of every visitor. She tentatively looks out the window, and freezes.

It’s Meiling. She’s holding a bag and looking around, up at the trees. She’s looking for the dolls, Alice realizes, before she ducks out of view and starts fussing with her hair desperately. Even if she _has_ spent the past few days rotting in the privacy of her own home, she doesn’t want anyone else to know that.

Alice rushes over to the table to fumble with the books, picking them all up, before opening the door. “Uh, hello, Meiling. I’m assuming you came for the books?”

“Miss Margatroid!” Meiling gives her a quick bow, before pausing and quirking an eyebrow. “Uh, no, I didn’t come for the books. Lady Remilia has broken one of her dolls, and she needs an artisan’s touch for the repairs. So, when possible, she’d appreciate it if you came over to fix the doll. It’ll pay well, and you can drop off those books and check in with Patche while you’re there.”

“Oh, uh. Okay.” Alice straightens her back, still holding the books. “Well…” She _was_ low on funds, after spending most of her money having her dolls fetch food for her, and she was running out of food, too. As much as the concept makes her anxiety bubble up again, this was probably necessary. Remilia always paid well. “Alright.” She does need to drop off the books, too - though she wasn’t anywhere near ready to talk with her yet. She could leave them with Koakuma, or Remilia, and get them to give them to her later.

“Okay!” Meiling bows, again. “Come around when you have the time.”

Alice nods absentmindedly, and watches as Meiling turns and flies off into the distance, presumably to continue with her other errands. Now… Alice sighs. She needs to actually get ready, for the first time in days. _Wonderful_.

* * *

It takes a couple hours hours to get everything ready - to clean herself, to change into cleaner clothes, to gather all her dollmaking supplies and reactivate her dolls. Once everything’s prepared, she still waits to depart. It was best to come a few hours into the night when she was going to do business with Remilia, otherwise she was all cranky and irritable.

The Gensokyo sky shines with the lights of distant stars, and the lights of the Human Village are visible from the Forest of Magic. It fades as she gets closer and closer to the mansion, passing over the lake and past the glow of Wriggle and her fireflies. By the time she’s walking up the path to the Scarlet Devil Mansion, the light of the moon is shining on her from above.

She’s tired - exhausted, even - but she needs the money, and it’s best to get this out of the way, else Remilia would get fussy.

Her dolls pick up a nearby presence - seconds later, Meiling is at her side, smiling pleasantly. “It’s nice to see you, Alice. Right this way, please.”

Meiling guides her inside, past the gardens and into the hall, where Sakuya picks up. She doesn’t say anything, and neither does Alice, at first. “Uh, Sakuya?” The maid turns her head towards her, and Alice lifts up the books she had borrowed from Patchouli. “Could you return these to Patchouli when you have the chance, please?”

Sakuya nods, “Of course,” and her image flickers. The books disappear from her hand and Sakuya appears a foot from where she was before. It was always disorienting, when Sakuya stopped time, and Alice hadn’t ever really gotten used to it.

They both stop at the doors of Remilia’s room, and Sakuya pushes them open. “Lady Remilia, Miss Margatroid is here.” She bows, and moves to allow Alice enter the room after her.

“Alice!” Remilia grins from her seat, sitting on the opposite end of a large table, on which lies a small, broken doll. “I’m glad you could make it under such short notice!” She stirs a cup of bloodred tea and takes a sip. “Please, take a seat. Sakuya, thank you for welcoming our guest.”

Sakuya gives another short bow before disappearing from sight, and Remilia turns her focus to Alice. “I see you’ve brought your doll making equipment, good. My doll here is in a… very poor state, it seems.” Remilia’s voice is a whine, and she gestures towards the doll as Alice takes her seat.

“What happened to it?” Alice leans over the table to inspect it. It was badly damaged - its torso seems to have been shattered by some sort of impact, presumably from falling. “It looks like it fell.”

“Let’s say that’s what happened,” Remilia says, sounding uninterested. Alice doesn’t bother pushing the subject. Remilia wouldn’t give her a real answer, and Alice isn’t quite sure she wants to know what happened anyways. It looks like it fell, and that’s all she needs to know to fix it.

“We’ll have to talk about the pay,” Alice mutters, dolls moving around to gather and organize the shattered bits of doll. “Something like this will take a couple hours of precise work, so…”

Remilia waves her away. “You’ll be paid for your work, don’t worry. As if I’d drag you out all the way here and pay you less than you deserve.” She sounds almost insulted.

Alice doesn’t say anything, she just gives her a small nod and starts her work. She expects Remilia to leave, at first, but the vampire just sits there, swinging her legs and sipping at her tea. Minutes by minutes pass as Alice pieces the doll back together, bit by bit, until Remilia speaks up again.

“So, what’s up with you and Patche? You haven’t visited in a while. I don’t want my librarian to get all lonely, cooped up down there.” Remilia talks casually, and Alice feels her heart drop down into her stomach.

She fumbles with the doll, almost dropping it, before gently settling it down, taking a deep, calming breath. “Nothing’s happened between us, Remilia. Everything is fine,” she says, in the calmest, most steady tone she could manage.

Remilia snorts. “You expect me to believe that? You handed the books to Sakuya instead of paying Patche a visit yourself. You usually jump at that chance. Please, I’m not as oblivious to these things as she is.” She crosses her arms and looks at Alice. “What happened.”

She should have expected this from Remilia. She feels so intensely uncomfortable, now - she just wants to leave, now, and go back home to return to her lovely routine of rotting. Can’t she just do that? She considers leaving, but Remilia would probably just get irritated and have Sakuya drag her back.

So this is, unfortunately, the only option.

Alice takes a while to find her words. “I, uh, just… I realized something, about - “

“Ah, you found out she was a homunculus.” Remilia leans back, nodding. “I wondered when you’d figure that out. I expect she was waiting for you to run into that on your own. Talking about it isn’t easy, for her.” She tilts her head. “So, were you just trying to wait it out and figure some things out, then?”

She’s not really pleased about it, but Remilia knowing about it before her makes her feel kind of sickly. _Jealousy_. She pushes the feeling away and tugs at the hem of her dress. Alice looks down and nods.

Remilia doesn’t say anything, at first. “... I can’t really blame you, given everything,” she gestures at Alice’s dolls. “Still, you should pay her a visit. She’ll get all mopey about you not coming around in a while, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Especially once she sees that you’ve returned those books without saying anything.”

Alice doesn’t respond.

She knows it’s not really fair, but… she doesn’t know what to do. It’s not like her feelings have faded, or anything like that. She just… doesn’t know what to do, or how to act. She’s suddenly painfully aware of everything she does and everything she says, of all the movements of her dolls, and everything.

“So, what _is_ it between you and Patche, anyways, besides this?” Remilia says, looking over at her curiously. “Are you gaaaaaaaaay, Alice?”

Alice is grateful she isn’t drinking anything because she would have spit it up. “UH - “ she stammers, face flushing red with embarrassment. “I… I…” She tries to say something, anything, but nothing’s coming to mind and all she can do is fumble with her words and stare at the broken doll on the table in front of her.

“Oh, that sounds like a yes to me!” Remilia claps her hands together, giggling. “That’s great! Sakuya, did you hear that? Alice and Patchouli are GAY!”

There’s a faint “Yes, mistress,” from the other side of the door.

Alice is going to die. She can’t believe this is happening.

She looks at the broken doll and sighs. “I’m not - if you called me all the way out here just to pester me about my relationship with Patche, I’m not going to finish repairing this -”

“That doll was expensive! You’ll fix it, and I’ll pay you extra for your trouble,” Remilia shrugs. “I’m sorry to drag you out here, but it was kinda necessary, otherwise you’d just keep avoiding Patche. And, if you’re in a ‘relationship’, as you put it, communication is key -”

“I get it,” Alice cuts her off, irritated. “I’ll talk to her soon, okay. Just let me finish fixing this first.”

“Alright,” Remilia says, looking proud and smug. “Good.”

It takes a couple more hours, but, eventually, the doll is completely repaired once more. Remilia is gone - she eventually lost interest in watching her fix the doll, and wandered off to pester Sakuya and find something more amusing. Alice stands up, gathers her things, and moves to exit the door, when -

It opens in front of her and she pauses, “Oh, Remilia, I finished -” her words die in her throat and she stares at the person in front of her. _Fuck_. “U-uh, hi, Patchouli…” she fumbles with her basket, pulling her gaze away from Patchouli quickly to stare at the floor. Or anything else, really.

Patchouli stares at her with the same blank expression as always. “Oh, Alice. I didn’t expect to see you here. When did you arrive?”

Alice looks around, before forcing herself to meet Patchouli’s eyes. “U-uh, I’ve been here for a couple hours, I was just… fixing Remilia’s broken doll…” She laughs nervously, tugging at her hair.

“Ah.” Patchouli floats past her to look at the broken doll on the table, picking it up slowly. “... Well, you’ve done a good job. Her dolls are typically unsalvageable after she breaks them.” Is it just Alice’s imagination, or does she sound more distant than usual?

“Thank you,” she manages, smiling weakly. “S-so, how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been better,” Patchouli turns her head, looking at her seriously. “Where have you been?”

Straight to business, as usual. Alice shifts. “Uh. Well…” She shouldn’t lie about this, she should be honest and forthright but it’s hard when it comes to something like _this_. She hesitates for a few moments, before hastily saying, “Well, I haven’t been avoiding you or anything! I’ve just been busy!”

The look Patchouli gives her makes it clear she doesn’t believe her. “Have you been avoiding me?” she says, voice as steady as always despite the mood. Alice has no idea how she can manage that. She feels like she’s going to start crying as she talks.

“Well… yes, but…” Her voice trails off uneasily, and she grabs a hold of her dress’ hem with her shaky hands. Patchouli stares through her. She takes a breath to steady herself. “It’s - the homunculus thing, I - not my homunculus research, but you -”

Alice sees Patchouli’s expression falter for just a second, and stops. Patchouli is staring at her with half-closed eyes, already composed again. “Ah. So you figured that out, then?” Her voice sounds just a bit different, but Alice can’t place the few emotions she hears in it. It’s jarring to hear her speak in anything but a monotone.

She can’t tell her Marisa told her. She knows how she’d react to that.

“Uh, yeah,” Alice nods, words coming out of her mouth faster than she can process them in her anxiety, “And I just… didn’t know what to do, and this is probably why your body’s like that, and it’s a big thing, so…” She trails off nervously, and looks up at Patchouli.

Patchouli isn’t saying anything, just looking at her. She takes a breath, and closes her eyes. “Yes, my body is like this because I’m a poorly made, defective homunculus,” she says, eventually, voice steely. “I am glad you came all this way to inform me of this. Your pity is appreciated.”

Alice’s stomach sinks, and she takes a step towards Patchouli, reaching out. “No, Patche, I didn’t mean -”

She recoils from her outstretched hand, and turns her back on her, floating towards the door. “Go back home, Alice,” she says, voice monotone, before slamming the door shut behind her with more force than Alice thought she had in her arms.

Alice stands there, mouth dry, slowly letting her arm fall to her side. She can’t think - everything in her head is a mess of static that seeps into her other senses. Remilia comes in at some point, and hands her a heavy pouch - her payment. She says things - Alice doesn’t process them, and walks out once she’s done.

The entire trip back to her house doesn’t process, either - she just finds herself staring at her reflection in the mirror, tears streaming down her face, before she slumps down, sobs bubbling up in her chest.

* * *

Patchouli’s room is cold.

She wraps herself up in her blankets, but the cold doesn’t really leave, instead just seeping deep into her stomach, heart, and bones. Her breaths rattle her lungs. She screws her eyes shut. She can’t stop thinking about _Alice_. About what she said, about everything. The anxiety makes her normal health issues worse, and worse.

It’s kept her up, too. She keeps on running over what happened, again, and again. She meant what she said. If Alice is going to pity her and her broken body, she doesn’t need her. She doesn’t want pity, not from her, not from anyone. But… there’s still that little sliver of guilt that found its way into her heart the moment she said what she did, a sliver that grew more and more irritating and painful with every breath she took.

Alice didn’t deserve that.

She didn’t deserve to have her snap on her like that. Patchouli can’t even blame it on impulse - it was an outburst of calculated, deliberate malice. Part of her tried to stop it, maybe, but that part wasn’t big enough. Like the rest of her, that part seemed to be broken too. Patchouli rubs at her eyes.

She wishes Alice was here, and the thought makes her feel sicker than normal. She rolls onto her stomach and shoves her face into a pillow, trying to blot out her thoughts. That doesn’t help. It just makes breathing harder, so Patchouli rolls over again and stares at the ceiling, through the dark static of the unlit room.

The door cracks open. “Patche?”

Remilia.

Patchouli raises her arm to wave. “Hello, Remi.”

The vampire flutters over onto her bed, sitting at her feet. “Hey.” Neither of them say anything, for a while. Remilia’s presence is calming, though - gives something for Patchouli to focus on, besides the swirl of thoughts running through her head. “What happened?” She says, eventually.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Patchouli mutters.

Remilia doesn’t say anything, but she opens up her arms. Patchouli hesitates, before sitting up and wrapping her arms  around her. She’s small, and not that warm, what with the lack of blood running through her veins, but she’s there, and she’s solid. Remilia hugs her back, and pats her, gently.

She doesn’t say anything, she just breathes. There’s not really much to say, anyways. She doesn’t want to talk about Alice, or her fuckup. Remilia would make a big deal about it, anyways, and the last thing she wants is Remilia banging on Alice’s door in the middle of the night.

She sets her head on Remilia’s shoulder. Remilia pats her back, again. “Would you like some tea, Patche? I can get Sakuya to go fetch some, for the both of us.”

Patchouli nods. Talking feels like a bit too much effort, right now.

Remilia pats her back again. “Okay! I’ll be back.”

She isn’t gone for long. When she comes back, it’s with two cups of tea. She sets one on Patchouli’s nightstand, before sitting beside her. The bed is big enough for two. Patchouli leans against her, reaching over to grab her own cup of tea. It’s too hot, but she doesn’t care. The heat numbs the pain in her throat.

The two of them sit there, for some time, sipping tea and enjoying each other’s company. Patchouli doesn’t say anything - Remilia occasionally comments on something she had seen earlier in the day, or on how good the tea was (as always). She doesn’t say anything about the doll, or Alice, and works her hand into Patchouli’s free grasp, squeezing it gently.

Despite the calming effect this was having on her mind, her body continues to struggle. Her lungs strain for breath. None of the air she gets feels like enough, even after she breathes in, and out, over and over. It’s been like this a long time, so it’s not like this is new, but… it’s never been pleasant.

She yawns. Remilia looks over at her. “Patche, go to sleep.”

Patchouli settles down, leaving her empty cup of tea on her nightstand. “I think I will,” she whispers, and Remilia pats her head.

“Good.” She stays there until Patchouli’s vision fades away into a sleepy haze.


	3. Chapter 3

“Patche.”

“No.”

“PATCHE.”

“No. Go away.”

“Come on,” Marisa pokes her in the cheek. “I actually have something to talk to you about, for once. I’m not JUST here to harass you.” She crosses her arms, looking at her with an unexpectedly serious expression. “Seriously, Patche, just listen.”

Patchouli sighs, and turns her head slowly, glaring at Marisa. “God, fine. What do you want.”

The look Marisa gives her makes her immediately realize that listening to her is a mistake. “So, about you and Alice -”

“Oh god, not you too.” Patchouli turns away again, rubbing at her temples. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

Marisa snorts. “Yeah, no one wants to talk about it, but if no one talked about anything ever, nothing would ever happen and we’d all dry up and rot alone.” Patchouli stares at her. “Anyways, I’m assuming she told you about finding out the homunculus thing?”

Patchouli blinks, and tilts her head to the side. “Uh, yeah, but -” Patchouli narrows her eyes. “How do you know she knows?” Marisa had mentioned it to her at some point, months earlier, and Patchouli had just brushed it off. Of _course_ she knew. She had always figured these things out so easily. Like it was obvious.

“Uh, duh.” Marisa raises an eyebrow. “I told her.”

Now, Patchouli has always prided herself on her self-control. She didn’t act on impulse. She was calm, patient, deliberate. But the moment she hears and processes that - everything blanks out. When her sight fades back from red, she’s standing over Marisa, holding her stinging fist.

Marisa rises to her feet, wiping at her bloody nose with her sleeve. “I probably deserved that,” she mutters, before chuckling. “I guess that led to… something, right? Cause Alice has been all grumpy lately and whenever I talk about you she kicks me out, and -”

Patchouli isn’t listening.

Marisa told Alice. Marisa. _Marisa_. This was her fault. All of this. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t ruined everything. Those thoughts fade just as quickly. _You’re the one who fucked up, not Alice, not Marisa, but_ **_you_**. _And Alice deserves to hear you acknowledge that_ , Patchouli thinks, pulling at her hair.

She’s hyperventilating. She can’t, she can’t admit to something like that, can’t admit to failing and stumbling and screwing everything over. It’d be better to let everything just _die_. Herself included. _Stupid_. She couldn’t even blame her mistake on impulse, it had been measured, deliberate. She was an idiot.

“Uh, Patche?”

Marisa? Patchouli waves her arm at her, glaring. _This_ was her fault. Maybe not this whole labyrinthine bullshittery stemming from her amazingly poor social skills, but - this situation now, with her heart pounding and her breath stalling. Okay, wow this was looking less like a panic attack and more like an asthma attack with every moment.

The two kinda blend together sometimes.

Patchouli stumbles and falls to her knees, chest constricting, sweat forming on her face. She’s going to die. She’s going to fucking die, and it’s going to be because of Marisa. She knew it. She knew it was going to be her, the final fucking straw. But, wait, she won’t die if she gets her inhaler. It’s too far, and she’s struggling to move, to stand.

Everything feels so fast. She’s breathing faster than she should, but the anxiety makes it worse, and her throat becomes worse and worse with every breath. Her neck and chest tense and tighten. All she can do is wheeze, and, soon enough, even that becomes difficult.

There’s a swooshing sound, and - warm, firm arms come up underneath her, lifting her up. “Patche, Patche,” Koakuma mutters, lowering her head to listen to her breathing. “No, no, no, you’re fine, come on, we have to get your inhaler. Please, come, come on.”

Koakuma is strong. She can carry her, easily. She flies her up, and over to her desk. She sets her down on her desk - knocking things over, but Patchouli is barely conscious of that. Koakuma scrambles, looking for the inhaler, but she finds it, soon enough. Koakuma shakes it and removes the cap. “Hey, hey - Patche, breathe, please.” She takes in a deep, hoarse breath, and Koakuma helps her with the inhaler, guiding it into Patchouli’s hands and up to her mouth.

It doesn’t help all that much. Patchouli still feels shaky, is still having trouble breathing, so Koakuma helps her, again. Then… Koakuma groans, in frustration. “Marisa? Marisa, are you still there - ? You need to get - oh god, you’re useless.”

Patchouli passes out.

* * *

Alice’s cottage is too warm. Maybe it’s just because she’s been lying in her bed for what feels like several painful days. She’s been out and about a few times, but she never ventured far. Mostly, she sent out her dolls and kept to herself. Marisa came by a few times, to pester her about Patchouli and mooch food off of her.

But now, there’s no one here. Alice wants to be alone, but it still feels lonely. Her dolls don’t feel like real company. They stare at her with empty eyes when she lies down like this, inactive but waiting. It makes her uncomfortable. This is probably why Patchouli’s never stayed over. Thinking about her makes her stomach swirl with guilt and anxiety and confusion

She tries to fall back asleep.

Her thoughts fade for some time, but she doesn’t fall asleep. She just zones out, into some long, blissful silence. All that is shaken away when there’s a pounding at her door, and she groans, rubbing her eyes. “Go away,” she mutters. The pounding doesn’t stop.

“Alice!” It’s Marisa. “Come on, I have something important to talk to you about!” She keeps on pounding on the door. “GET UP.”

“You say that every time you come here! No matter the topic!” Alice yells back, yelling her underused voice hoarse. There’s the echoing sound of splintering wood and crackling magic. Alice blinks. “DID YOU JUST BLOW DOWN MY DOOR?” She hears footsteps. “Goddammit, Marisa -” she stumbles to her feet, from her bed, walking to intercept Marisa.

Marisa opens the door before she gets there. “Alice - oh, you’re up already, good.” Marisa claps her hands together, and Alice glares at her, with lidded eyes. “Anyways, now that you’re up -”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING.” Alice shrieks, waving her arms. “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I’M TIRED OF THIS! I’LL BE READY TO TALK WHEN I’M READY TO TALK, JUST -”

“Patchouli had an asthma attack,” Marisa cuts her off, jabbing her broom in her face. Alice stops. “She’s sick. I don’t know how sick, she - she passed out, and Remilia went to go get Eirin, so it must be bad. I mean, like, Remilia _hates_ her, so I think she’d only resort to calling her when there’s something really wrong -”

Alice stares at her, blankly. “H-how? What happened?”

“I, uh,” Marisa scratches her neck, sheepishly. “I asked her about what happened between the two of you, and uh, the fact that I told you about the homunculus thing may have slipped out, and she kind of punched me in the face…” Alice tunes her out, running her hands through her hair.

She could have prevented this, by talking to Marisa instead of pushing her away. Then, she wouldn’t have went to Patchouli and she wouldn’t have freaked out about whatever it is Marisa’s rambling about, and everything would be better. Hell, if she took this back to the beginning, everything would be good, if she hadn’t fucked up, hadn’t ruined everything…

Alice pushes past Marisa. She needs to get to Patchouli. She doesn’t care about their fight. They can fix that when she’s there, when she’s holding her hand and seeing her breathe. She needs to be alive. She can’t die. She can’t lose _her_. This can’t be happening.

She flies straight to the mansion. She ignores the exhaustion. She doesn’t care about how she hasn’t showered in days, or hasn’t changed her clothes. She needs to be with Patchouli. If she’s going to die - she needs to fix it. She needs to fix their relationship, if she can. She needs to… Alice wipes the tears from her eyes - was she crying? Great.

She gets to the mansion quickly. She pushes in through the front doors - unlocked. They’re always unlocked. It’s not like anyone who’d be stopped by a lock would walk up the steps to the mansion without getting scared off by Meiling. If Patchouli’s sick, she’ll be in the library, with everyone else…

Alice gets there quickly. She knows the way. Once she pushes the door open - she pauses. Nearly everyone in the mansion is in the library’s main room. Meiling is pacing. Sakuya is sitting on Patchouli’s desk and swinging her pocketwatch like a pendulum. Flandre is sitting, leaning against a bookshelf with a bored, worried expression.

Everyone stares at her, but no one says anything.

“W-where’s Patchouli,” Alice says, voice shaky. “And, Remilia -”

Meiling jabs her thumb in the direction of Patchouli’s room. “They’re in there, with Doctor Yagokoro and Koakuma. She’s conscious.” Her voice is tense, and her worry is evident on her face. “You’ll, uh, probably have to wait outside with the rest of us. Doctor Yagokoro said she didn’t want anyone else in the room.”

Alice nods and walks towards Patchouli’s room, just to listen.

She hears Remilia’s voice, shrill, through the wall. “- Are you a real doctor? Do you even have a medical degree, _‘Doctor’_ Yagokoro?” That’s all she really needs to hear, and she wanders back towards the main room. She sits down, sliding down against a bookshelf, and stares at the floor.

A long time passes, in silence. No one says anything. Meiling continues to pace. Alice can hear Sakuya’s pocketwatch ticking away. It feels like hours, when she hears the door open and sees Eirin walking outside. “ - I’m sorry, Miss Scarlet, but that’s all I can do. You’ll have to handle the rest. Leave it up to fate, as they say.”

Her heart sinks.

Eirin walks through the library. No one says anything, and she doesn’t spare anyone a glance, before - “Ah, Miss Margatroid. Come, walk with me, we have something to discuss.” She gestures for her to join her, and Alice blinks, before scrambling up to follow.

“Uh… what is it, Doctor Yagokoro,” she says, once they’re out of earshot, and Eirin stops in her tracks.

“It’s about Miss Knowledge. To my knowledge, the two of you are together, yes?”

Alice hesitates. “Uh -”

“Miss Scarlet said as much.” Eirin shrugs. “It does not matter, as you are evidently a friend of her nonetheless. Now, you know about her nature as a homunculus as well?” Alice nods. “Alright. Then, you must know how deep the damage to her body goes. Her organs are poorly formed and weak, and her condition has worsened through disuse, neglect, and the contaminants in her environment.”

“I - I know all of this, why is this relevant -”

“She is an organic homunculus. Made from flesh and blood. I do not know the specifics beyond her creation, but they are not very relevant. The point I am making is that I cannot do much for her in this condition. I do not have access to the ingredients I would need to repair her body. Her safest option is to get an entirely new body.”

Alice blinks, and she begins to understand.

“Flesh and blood is not your specialty, I know, but that’s not important. You have the skill and knowledge needed to construct a new body for her, and I believe that this is necessary. It’s amazing, frankly, that her body has lasted as long as it has, but she’d be lucky to survive the next hundred years.” Eirin turns, and starts to walk away. “You’ll have to ask Miss Scarlet and Miss Knowledge about it, yourself. I did not discuss it with either of them.”

Alice watches her walk away, incapable of forming any response.

* * *

 _Earlier_.

“Doctor Yagokoro,” Patchouli says, voice hoarse. “How long has it been? I usually don’t get to see you around here. Truly, a shame.” She almost breaks into a coughing fit as she finishes her sentence, and she takes a sip of her cup of tea.

“Oh, it’s been some time, Miss Knowledge. Years.” Eirin Yagokoro settles on a chair beside her chair, reaching over to take her pulse. “I wonder why I don’t get invited more often. Someone always seems to leave me out when she invites the princess over for her parties.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re an ass,” Remilia stares a hole into Eirin’s back, leaning against the wall behind her, and Koakuma fidgets beside her. “I dunno. Just a hunch, you know.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm and malice, and she taps her fingers against her arms. “What are you even doing.”

“Listening to her pulse and breathing, Miss Scarlet,” Eirin takes out a stethoscope and listens to her heartbeat, and her lungs, and gets her to sit up so she can listen to them from the back. “This happens to be important. I suggest you leave it to the professional.”

“ _Professional_ ?” Remilia snorts. “You? Are you a real doctor? Do you even have a medical degree, _‘Doctor’_ Yagokoro?” Remilia tilts her head, questioningly. “Come on, you must carry some card or something with you, right?”

“If you must know, I have a medical degree in the Lunar Capital -”

Remilia laughs, again. “Does this look like the Lunar Capital to you, Eirin? It doesn’t look like it to me!” She twirls around. “Someone as old as you must be going senile, huh? A medical degree up in the shit quadrant of space means nothing down here on Earth, you quack.”

Eirin closes her eyes, and takes a breath. “Why’d you invite a quack into your home, then, to examine your best friend?”

“Quack or not, you’re better than any other doctor in this dump,” Remilia grumbles, crossing her arms. “So I’m really short on options. Patche deserves the best, which, unfortunately, seems to be _you_. If I had any alternatives, I’d have gone to them.”

“You must care for Miss Knowledge a great deal to go through inviting me, then,” Eirin says, sounding amused. “It’s sweet, really.” Remilia glares at her even more intensely, and growls under her breath.

“Insufferable,” she mutters.

“What triggered the asthma attack, Miss Knowledge?” Eirin asks, as she finishes up her initial examination.

“Panic attack,” Patchouli recites, “Which developed into an asthma attack. Koakuma wasn’t around, so she didn’t notice, and I was too far from my inhaler.” The inhaler was something Eirin had given her a long time ago, when she had gone to investigate this legendary medical genius that Sakuya and Remilia were talking about after that incident.

Eirin nods, before sighing. “You should keep your inhaler on hand at all times, Patchouli, to prevent things like this from happening. Do you need it restocked?” Patchouli nods. “I’ll send Reisen back here once I return, with more medication.” She reaches over and writes notes on a clipboard.

“We should just keep you here,” Remilia mutters. “Hire you for full-time maintenance of my witch, here.”

“Unfortunately, Miss Scarlet, I am not for hire.”

“Hah, you could have fooled me! The price, Patche, was unbelievable. Monstrous. Borderline criminal to be charging that much for simple MEDICAL SERVICES. You should be ashamed of yourself, Eirin Yagokoro.”

Eirin actually stops and turns to look at Remilia with a bewildered expression. “I didn’t charge you. I’ve never charged you for my services. I came here, no questions asked.”

“Eirin, Eirin, Eirin…” Remilia shakes her head. “You don’t understand. This price was not something that could be paid with all the wealth in the world, and it’s something I can never regain.”

She turns her head back to Patchouli and squeezes the bridge of her nose. “Alright, Miss Scarlet. Whatever you say. I’m so sorry for your loss, but it’s sweet, how you’ve paid such a grave price for your witch, here.”

“She’s worth the price, Eirin. I’m sure you have people you’d pay such a price for.”

Eirin laughs. “Fair enough, Miss Scarlet. Fair enough.”

Remilia only seems to get angrier, hair bristling. She doesn’t say anything, though, and takes a long, calming breath.

“Anyways. Miss Knowledge,” Eirin returns her focus to her. “I don’t know what to say to you that I haven’t said already. You have the medication. You need to remember to take it every day. I’d tell you to stay away from the contaminants, yet… you’ve never listened to me on that in the past, so why now? Koakuma,” Eirin turns her attention to her. “Make sure she has her inhaler at all times, since she evidently won’t make sure of that herself. If you can, keep her away from any potentially harmful reagents.”

Patchouli doesn’t say anything. She’s told her, bluntly, what she needs to do, and what she needs to not do, and yet… She knows just as well as Patchouli does that she won’t change. She knows that she’s only accelerating the inevitable, only moving closer and closer to death.

“Wh-what? That’s - you’re supposed to be the best doctor in Gensokyo! In the _world_ ! In the _universe_ ! And you can’t fix _this_!?” Remilia sounds angrier than Patchouli’s heard her in a long time, shouting and gesturing, voice slipping from its normal dignified air.

Eirin’s voice is steady. “Remilia. I’ve done all I can do. I don’t have the ingredients for the medication I’d need to fix her body. They’re not found here, in Gensokyo. I don’t know where they’re found.” She stands, and walks towards the door.

“You’re - you’re _useless_!” Remilia shrieks, clenching her hands into fists.

“I’m sorry, Miss Scarlet, but that’s all I can do.” She opens the door, and turns her head to look at Remilia one last time. “You’ll have to handle the rest. Leave it up to fate, as they say.” And then, the door swings shut, and she’s gone.

Remilia stares at the door, expression blank in her rage. She’s trembling. “Remi,” Patchouli says. Remilia takes a step towards the door. “Remi, come on.” She lets a long breath out, and stops in her tracks, turning her head to Patchouli and looking at her sadly.

“I can’t let you die,” she mutters, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.” She flutters over to Patchouli, dropping onto the bed next to her. “There. There has to be something. This can’t be your fate.” She wraps her arms around Patchouli, who hugs her back. “I won’t let this be your fate. I need to figure things out,” she’s moving again, off the bed, a blur of motion and gestures. “I’ll find someone who can help.”

“... Remilia, you don’t have to -”

Patchouli is cut off. “Do you want to die? I need to know what I’m doing. I have to make this all perfect.” She can’t respond to that. Her voice is still hoarse. “Come on, get some rest. Koa - make sure she stays in bed.” Koakuma nods, and Patchouli groans.

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” she snaps, struggling to rise, but Remilia shoots a glare at her.

“You’re evidently not doing it yourself! Eirin may be a useless fraud, but she’s right when it comes to that. Even if this couldn’t be made perfect, you could have done more, you could have -” Her voice cracks. “God, it’s not your fault, but. Please. You need to let us take care of you. If you die…” She wipes her eyes again. “Patchouli, I forbid you from dying. If you die, I’ll never forgive you.”

Patchouli can’t say anything to that. She just nods. “I won’t die.” That troublesome loyalty pulls at her heart, and she thinks, not for the first time, that she’d follow Remilia anywhere.

“You better not.” Remilia slams the door behind her.

Minutes after she leaves, the others filter in. None of them really say anything new - they fuss over her condition, ask what Eirin said, and then are shooed off by Koakuma. “Alice was here,” Sakuya says, before she leaves, and Patchouli closes her eyes. _Of course._

Alice doesn’t come by. Patchouli’s not sure what she expected. After everything she ruined, of course. Why would she ever want to talk to her again? Patchouli sighs, and closes her eyes. “Koa,” she mutters. “I think you can go now, and let me sleep.”

Koakuma hesitates. “Well… okay.” She opens the door, and leaves. Patchouli stares at the ceiling, and -

“Hey.”

She blinks, and moves her gaze down.

Alice.

She looks awful, like she had just woken up. Her hair is a mess, her eyes are red and puffy. There’s a long, long awkward silence as the two of them stare at each other. The seconds tick on by in Patchouli’s head. Alice opens her mouth, and closes it, and looks down at the floor.

Patchouli takes as deep of a breath as she can manage. “Alice,” she says, picking at her skin underneath the covers. “I… need to apologize to you, for what happened.” Alice doesn’t say anything, but she looks back up at her. “... It wasn’t fair of me, to say what I said. I’m sorry.” She doesn’t know what else to say. It takes a lot to apologize.

Alice looks away. “It’s… not okay, really, it… sucked, for you to snap on me like that, but… I’m not going to hold it against you, or anything.” Her voice is shaky and hoarse. “... You’re not angry at me or anything, are you?”

Patchouli shakes her head. It’s easier to do that than talk. “I’m not angry at you, either. So…” She walks closer, and sits on her bed, next to her. Patchouli is too sick and tired to move away, and even if she’s not particularly in the mood for physical affection - or interaction at all, really - if she pushes Alice away anymore she won’t come back.

In the face of her apparently inevitable demise, Patchouli would rather close the door on her life with no loose ends. Everything’s a lot less scary when death is apparently so close by, so… she may as well get all these troublesome social things out of the way, just in case, and so she can focus on her magic without distraction.

She doesn’t want to die. Remilia would figure something out, she’s sure, and if not, she’ll find _something_ in her library that could help her. And, if not, well… She’d have to make the words she had left count. “Alice.” She reaches over, and takes her hand, gently. “I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time she said it, but she had never really said it much. Alice squeezes her hand, and smiles down at her. “I love you too,” she says, in a small, slow voice, before she looks down at her hands. “Patchouli. I… ran into Doctor Yagokoro while she was on the way out, and we talked about your… condition.”

Patchouli doesn’t like the idea of people talking about her _‘condition’_ behind her back, really, but she pushes away the feeling and nods. “And… She gave me an idea. Well, she told me what I could do, really.” Patchouli blinks. “I, uh - I haven’t done anything with an organic homunculus before, but… I’ve read about them, and there’s your books, and…” She takes a breath. “Patchouli. I can build you a new body, with… none of these problems.”

It doesn’t process. Patchouli stares at Alice. “You’d be able to breathe, and act, and go out without getting sick, and exhausted…” She trails off, and fidgets with her hair, looking away. “I mean, if you’re alright with that -” Patchouli pulls her down by the sleeve, into a tight, silent hug.

She can’t say anything. There’s no words coming to mind. Alice hugs her back, and Patchouli presses her face into her neck, trying to steady her breathing so that she didn’t get another fucking asthma attack and die Alice’s in arms. That’d be a sick joke for her body to play.

Alice doesn’t say anything, either. They’ve said all they need to say.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, uh…” Alice lays out the schematics for Patchouli’s new body over the desks carefully. There’s several sheets - one for the external structure, all the musculature and skin, and then her internal organs and skeletal structure. Alice points them all out to a silent Patchouli. There’s complex magical circles - drafts of the one she’d need to move Patchouli’s consciousness from one body to the other - and others, the ones she’d need to put all the components of her body together. “… So, yeah, there’s all that. I need to, uh, get everything regarding the exact sizes ironed out before I try anything, and these are only the roughest drafts for the magical circles and everything. How does it look?”

Patchouli looks over the pages carefully, and slowly, smoothing out the wrinkled papers with her hands. Alice stares at her - at her focused, yet blank expression, at the way she taps her fingers as she looks over everything, at the way she chews on her tongue when she’s thinking. She looks over every page slowly, pausing when she gets to the prototype circles to look them over in more detail. It’s a wonder, how she grasps them so quickly - that’s what happens, Alice guesses, when you’re as old and experienced as she was. She doesn’t say anything for a long time, though she occasionally makes some minor correction in a magic circle. “It looks good, if rough, to me, Alice. It’ll still need some work, but it’s definitely good.” She stands up straight, and takes a breath. “I still believe it’d be for the best to burn up this body during the process, to produce the reagents and energy needed in the ritual. It’d be faster than spending time making a new body.”

Usually, Patchouli is somewhat calmer, and more patient, but Alice can hear it in the way she talks. She wants that new body. She wants it now, as soon as she can get it. She doesn’t want to spend another minute in this one, nor does she ever want to acknowledge it again. Patchouli calls her body nonfunctional, half-dead, like an apple that’s rotted all the way to the core. Of course she wouldn’t want to spend any more time in a body like that. “… Yeah, you’re right, but there’s too much room for error, there. It’d be better to build the body first, and make sure everything’s perfect before I move your soul over. We can still use the energy produced by burning your body up to fuel the body’s lifeforce, along with the rest of the ritual.” Alice shrugs. “Anyways, uh… there’s some things we still need to figure out some things regarding your body.”

“You’re probably right,” Patchouli sighs, running a hand through her hair. “And what about it?”

“Well, uh… appearance wise!” Alice claps her hands together, and turns her head away, too nervous to meet her eyes. “You’re content how your body is in that department, right?”

There’s a brief pause, before Patchouli responds. “Everything I disliked about my appearance, I changed long ago.” Alice doesn’t pry, about the specifics. They’ve all been there, haven’t they? Alice doesn’t know if she knows any witch in Gensokyo who hasn’t been there. Regardless, it’s not something she wants people asking her about, so its not something she’s going to bother Patchouli about. “Why?”

Alice swallows. “Well, uh! I kinda, guessed the… dimensions of your body, but… if you want your body to stay the same, appearance-wise, I’ll need more exact measurements.” She looks back at her, slowly. “For, like… everything. I can have my dolls do the measurements, it’d be easy and fast, that way. I can have them fetch measuring tape and stuff, so…”

Patchouli is staring at her, expression blank. “Please elaborate on ‘measurements’.”

“Like… your height, weight, arm length and width, same with the legs, stuff like your fingers, waist, hips, chest, bust, and so on,” Alice lists off, a bit too quickly, before scratching at her neck. “As I said, it’d probably be easier to just have my dolls do it, since I doubt you’re flexible enough to really do it yourself accurately…”

Patchouli sighs. “Ah, you’re probably right. It’s been a long time since I’ve tried to stretch, or anything. But…” She looks over at Alice. “I’d rather not have your dolls poking around my body with measuring tape. It seems like it’d be uncomfortable. Besides,” she says, voice as steady as ever, “It’d be better to have you do it yourself.” Alice has no idea how she manages to keep her voice so controlled and her expressions so blank, even when talking about things like this. It’s ridiculous, and it’s not fair, either. Alice can barely talk without stammering and flushing and looking away.

“A-ah, well… if that’s what you'd want…” Alice stares at the schematics, and the hastily drawn Patchouli on the paper stares back. “Uh, we can do that later, I -”

“We can do it now,” Patchouli mutters. “We can’t really progress before we have this done, since you need to know this to figure out how many ingredients you need and how the ritual needs to be structured. If you’re fine with doing this right now, we should do it right now, instead of pushing it away over and over again. We have to do it eventually, and you evidently brought the dolls with measuring tape. So, if you’re okay with doing this, we should do it now. I’d rather not have to spend more time rotting in this body.”

Alice takes a breath. “Okay, okay. You’re right.” She gestures for the appropriate dolls to come over, and they carry over the measuring tape. They’d just write all the results down as she measures Patchouli. “Uh… first, we should do your height.” Patchouli nods, and offers no resistance as Alice extends the measuring tape to measure her full height. She’s taller than her, only by a few inches - Alice is about 5’6. Patchouli is on the higher end of 5’9. Her height wasn’t always apparent, with all the sitting and slouching she did. She always seemed shorter, but now, standing as tall as she could, Alice could see how much taller than her she really was.

The rest of the measurements go fine, though Alice feels herself blushing every time she has to get closer, every time she has to touch any part of her body. Patchouli shifts and obeys, but she doesn’t say anything. She has long legs, and a shorter torso. Long fingers with perfect, pale nails. Her arms aren’t shaved, nor are her legs. She’s unhealthily skinny and frail - Alice can see the outlines of her bones, feel them when she touches her wrists. Despite her height, her frame is so small and bony. It feels like Alice can break her in her hands… like she’s made out of priceless porcelain. Her eyes are a bright, brilliant purple, and they follow Alice everywhere she goes. There’s bags underneath them, and they look bloodshot. Her skin is soft, and warm to the touch. Alice feels so red, like she’s burning up with a fever. She ignores it.

She smells like old pages, old books, and magic. Magic doesn’t really have much of a smell - it’s more of a feeling, something you feel burning and spreading under your skin and through your soul - but it’s the only way Alice knows how to describe it. It doesn’t take long, to measure everything, though Alice gets shakier and more self conscious the further they go, staring at every inch of skin that’s exposed, no matter how brief, hands lingering every where she touches… Her heart is pounding, eventually, and Patchouli looks at her with a nonplussed expression. It wasn’t fair, how relaxed she seems. Her dolls write down the last of her measurements, and Alice sets down the measuring tape.

“Well, uh, that’s done…” Alice trails off, and taps her fingers against the desk. “I’ll need to get all the reagents for the ritual soon. Now that I know all the dimensions and everything, I can figure out all the dimensions, and…” She trails off awkwardly as Patchouli walks back towards the desk. She nods, looking over the papers on the desk, and then… she turns her head towards Alice.

“Thank you,” she says, voice quiet and tender. “So much, for all of this. Thank you.” Her voice is so quiet, yet so unexpectedly warm that it makes Alice’s heart skip a beat. Patchouli smiles at her, a small, faint smile, but a smile nonetheless, and Alice feels like she’s been warmed to the core. Then, Patchouli’s all business again. “We’d likely be good to begin the construction of the circle and body, then.”

* * *

Building a human body is hard.

Alice needs to get the ingredients, and that involves getting corpses, or at least some kind of human remains. Given that this is Gensokyo, this isn’t that difficult in itself - after all, one out of two people need to eat human meat. Still, it’s extremely uncomfortable, having to ask Sakuya for left-overs to use in the creation of Patchouli’s new body. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to spend much time acknowledging that these are in fact human remains - it’s soon all integrated into the magical circle, as natural and inconspicuous as the rest of the components.

She’s been etching the circles into the ground for the past couple days, as more and more of the ingredients come together, as her and Patchouli figure out the process bit by bit. The circle glows and crackles, even when magic isn’t moving through it, crackling, buzzing with faint ambient energy. Once the ritual is underway, the circle would crack to life, breaking down all the components that were worked into its structure and then putting them all back together in the shape of Patchouli’s new body. Most of the work so far had been putting the circle together - it was the most complex circle Alice had ever constructed, by far. Patchouli helps with it, correcting mistakes, and making small, but important, adjustments.

It was mostly alchemy, which was one of the branches of magic that Alice was well-versed in besides her dollmaking. It was complicated, tedious work, mapping out the structure of the human body, especially when she needed to be this precise. Her work had to be perfect. Anything less than that could seriously affect Patchouli’s body, and undo all the careful work Alice had done so far. So she needs to constantly check and refine the work, over and over again, making sure everything was perfectly spaced and perfectly written and perfectly drawn. Koakuma helps - her hands are steady, and she’s good with ritual circles, carefully lining out the structure of the circle.

It takes days, to get it presentable at all, let alone complete.

And now…

“So these circles are gonna give Patche her new body?” Marisa leans down and looks at the circle, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like a pain. So she stands over in that circle, yeah, and her new body pops up here, yeah?” She points at one circle, and then the next. The two of them were connected by a series of magical channels. They’d transmit all the energy and information from the first circle to the second.

Alice nods, looking over in the direction of Patchouli’s room. She had managed to convince her to take a nap before they go through the ritual - she needs all her energy, after all. “It’s done. I’m just going over it, making some last second changes.” She feels like she’ll never be ready for this. She had been working on this for weeks, every day. And now, it was done, and that meant Patchouli was going to go through this. It meant Patchouli’s life was in her hands. If she made some small error in either of the circles, Patchouli could die, or her soul could endure without any body, or any number of other horrible things. She can’t handle it. It needs to be absolutely flawless. Even a 1% chance of failure was too risky. There needed to be no chance for failure.

And, to be blunt, Marisa being anywhere near the ritual makes it feel suddenly much, much less secure. Like something horrible could happen any second. Patchouli can’t wake up with her around - she’d just get irritated and worked up. And besides - a ritual as important as this shouldn’t have an audience, only those necessary to its success. “Marisa -” The witch is ignoring her, looking over the circles carefully. “What are you doing.”

Marisa snorts. “Looking over the circles. Who am I supposed to steal from if it screws up and Patche kicks the bucket?” She pauses. “I was going to say I’m above grave robbing, but…”

Alice takes a breath and rubs at her temples. “The circles are fine. Patchouli will be fine. And Remilia would probably kill you if you stole from her after she died.”

“Yeah, I know.” Marisa shrugs. “I’d probably do it anyways. Anyways, Alice,” she taps on part of the circle. “This part needs to be moved a bit to the left, from what I can see, but otherwise it seems fine to me.” She stands. “Anyways, I know when I’m not wanted, so,” Marisa walks away, pulling a heavy book from one of the shelves. “See you around, Alice. Say hi to Patche for me, okay?” She hops on her broom and shoots out the doors of the library, leaving Alice staring after her in disbelief.

She looks back at the circle.

She needs to fix that.

* * *

 

Patchouli’s been awake for a while.

She’s just been lying in bed, tracing circles in the ceiling with her gaze and trying to take calming breaths. It doesn’t really work. Her mind is racing, and her heart is pounding. Every thought that goes through her head circles back towards the ritual. It’s today. It’s now. As soon as she gets up and goes over to Alice, the ritual will begin. She’s ready for it - she knows she is. Why wouldn’t she ever not be ready for something like this? This would help everything so much. It’d stop the constant reminder of her broken body and broken soul from hanging over head. She’d be able to live, without her sickness hovering behind her and reminding her of her mortality, of the inevitability of some things.

Well, it evidently wasn’t inevitable, if all it took to cut off that possibility was a few days of magical research and work. There was no obstacle magic couldn’t overcome, as long as you knew how.

Her body hurts more than usual, this morning - afternoon? Patchouli’s never sure what time it is when she wakes up. Her sleep schedule’s so messed up every hour of the day blends together into a same-y mess. Her back hurts, and the pain doesn’t leave no matter what position she moves into. Her lungs feel as empty as ever, and she feels so painfully parched. She needs water, before she does anything else. She manages to pull herself up out of her bed, and she walks out of her room and into the library as soon as she finds her sense of balance. Koakuma’s already fluttering down to meet her, a cup of water in her hands. Familiar were handy things. Remilia was right; Koakuma took much better care of her than she could ever manage herself. “Thank you, Koakuma,” Patchouli mutters, before taking a drink from the cup. It doesn’t soothe her throat immediately, but it certainly helps. “Come on.”

Patchouli walks to the center of the library, senses tingling as she picks up the distant energy of the completed ritual, ready for usage. Her skin crawls with anticipation. Soon, soon, soon, she’d have a body she could actually be comfortable in. (She seems to have gone through this, before, but that had been a long time ago, for something entirely different. The process had been different then, too). Alice is crouching near the ritual, looking it over for what was probably the hundredth time. “Alice,” she says, voice still hoarse. “I’m ready.”

Alice turns her head, and nods, slowly, before standing up. “Alright. Uh, well - I’m ready too, I guess. We should look over the ritual another time, just to be sure…” Patchouli pats her shoulder, gently, cutting her off.

“If you insist.” Checking it over doesn’t take long. The ritual is fine, as Patchouli had expected. If she didn’t believe Alice could do it, she wouldn’t have decided to do this. It’d be a lie to say she had full confidence in Alice - she only really ever had full confidence in herself, and even that was a rare occasion. Everyone made mistakes, but with three or so people combing over the circles, any mistake should have been caught and corrected much earlier. If not, well, Patchouli’s body was going to eventually kill her anyways, so what was the point in not risking it? “Come on, Alice.” Patchouli steps onto her part of the magic circle, carefully positioning her feet over the relevant parts. She looks at the other end - the part where her new body was supposed to end up - and takes a deep, deep breath. “I’m ready.”

Alice steps forward and hugs her, close. She doesn’t say anything. Neither of them say anything, for a while. Patchouli can feel Alice trembling, can hear her heart pounding in her chest. “I’ll be fine. I trust you, Alice. You can do this.” Her voice is a quiet, barely audible murmur, for Alice and Alice alone. Alice nods, and takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alice mumbles the words back, before pulling away, leaving Patchouli standing alone in the circle. “Alright. I’ll start.” Patchouli feels her activate the circles, and the magic around her whirs to life, sigils glowing as the magic courses through them. Patchouli feels it pushing at her consciousness, running over her body, analyzing the structure. She lets it in. It flows through her, a natural, warm, fuzzy feeling, filled with little painless stings. It’s a familiar, comfortable feeling, the feeling that magic has always given her. It feels right. She relaxes as much as she can, and lets her own magical energy flow out into the circle, running through the channels and all the way to the other circle.

Patchouli runs her consciousness over the magic as it starts up, a last minute check to see what’s all happening. She understands the circle, understands the magic that is whirring to life inside her and around her. She needs to feel it out. Once everything is in order - she lets go of her body and allows the magic to take it apart. She doesn’t let go entirely - she needs it to anchor her, lest she lose her form and drift off. She knew the risks rituals like these carried - she could become a bodiless spirit, which was something that she could deal with, given time. She had read about witches who deliberately gave up their bodies and turned into masses of magic, or into abstract, fleeting ideas that drifted across the world like clouds, never thinking, never truly existing.

Neither of those seem very appealing to her, at the moment. She has things to do, and she needs her body to do them.

Her body ceases to exist as a physical object as it is transmuted into pure magic, and she grabs onto that, letting herself and her energy flow through the circle. Patchouli feels the materials of her new body, feels the magic of her old one arrange them into the necessary shape, shifting atoms and cells and synapses into something more suitable for her. It doesn’t hurt in the slightest. The warm feeling of flowing magic and burning energy endures, with the weightless rush of moving through and around the circle. It feels like it takes hours - there’s so much to process. Every minute moment of every particle in her new body, every crackle as the circle takes more and more of her old body to fuel the ritual.

And then - Patchouli feels the world rush up to meet her, feels her body again, solid around her consciousness, and opens her eyes as she materializes on the second circle. It takes a few moments to register her surroundings, to process the physical world through her body’s new senses. She blinks, and takes a breath - the air is tinged with magic, and her lungs fill with it. It’s a deeper, cleaner, fuller breath than she’s taken in decades. Her body feels sore, still, but nothing like how it did before - all the little aches and pains that had faded away into a normal part of her life were suddenly just gone. Her body is trembling with the strain of the ritual, but she still feels so much more alive than she had in years.

She breathes again. She can’t quite process what it’s like to feel like this. What it’s like to not feel like her body is rebelling against her with every step and breath she takes. Her body is still trembling, but she’s not sure if it’s due to exhaustion or overstimulation and excitement. Alice is at her side, pulling her up onto her feet, talking in a hurried voice that goes too fast for Patchouli to acknowledge the words. Once the noise in her ears dies down, she hears her - “Patche? Are you alright? Patche? Come on, please -”

Patchouli Knowledge grabs a hold of Alice’s collar, and pulls her close to her, pressing a kiss to her lips before wrapping her arms around her shoulders. She sets her chin on her shoulder and takes another breath - is this what breathing feels like for most people? It’s been so long that Patchouli can’t remember. “I feel alive,” she mutters, not even bothering to keep the glee from her voice. “I feel alive. Thank you - thank you.” She keeps on repeating those words, past the point where it would have made her breathless in the past, and holds Alice as close as she possibly can.

 


	5. Epilogue

Patchouli’s breaths are steady, even in sleep.

It’s calming, feeling her breathe in and out beside her, and Alice smiles to herself. Her bed is roomy enough for the two of them to be comfortable together. Patchouli, for once, looks peaceful and content. Alice is sure that’ll fade away over time. Probably once she has to look at Marisa again. Alice shifts, and Patchouli grumbles in her sleep, repositioning herself. Her arms are lazily slung over her waist under the blankets, holding her close. She had fallen asleep quickly, once the two of them had gotten to bed after all the excitement earlier in the day, and Alice had just watched it happen, smiling all the while. It was nice, seeing her like this. She isn’t sure if she had ever seen her like this, ever in the past.

Alice takes a breath and closes her eyes, ready to fall asleep with her.

Then, there’s the sound of the door creaking open. “Mm, who is it -” Alice raises her head, squinting at light that shone through the crack in the door before it closes. A small shape climbs up onto the bed. “Uh, Remilia -?” Paying no mind to Alice, the vampire pushes herself up in between the two of them in a remarkably catlike fashion, and… promptly falls asleep, pinning Alice’s arm to the mattress underneath her. Patchouli’s eyes crack open, look at the two of them, and then promptly close again.

“What’s she doing here?” Alice mutters to her, trying not to disturb Remilia.

Patchouli shrugs. “She does this. She’s always done this. You’ll get used to it.” She falls back asleep as suddenly as she had awoken, leaving Alice to lie in the bed. She tries to pull her arm out from under Remilia, but she finds she can’t, not without moving her and waking her up. Alice really isn’t sure if waking her up like this was a good idea. It probably isn’t worth trying to move her arm. So, she just lies there, and manages to worm her hand into Patchouli’s, giving her a small, gentle squeeze.

She’d learn to deal with this. Remilia breathes steadily, too, and makes small squeaking sounds, whenever she shifts to get more comfortable. Which is constantly. Alice closes her eyes, tunes her out, and eventually falls asleep.


End file.
